Paulo Coelho: A Warrior's Life is the first-ever biography of the man whose books have sold an astounding 100 million copies worldwide, making him one of the bestselling authors of all time.

Paulo Coelho's life begins with a complicated birth in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, in August 1947. He was known as the "boy who was born dead" and who ultimately survived against all odds. Before he became internationally known as a worldwide bestselling author, Paulo lived many different lives. He flirted with suicide, was committed by his parents to insane asylums, suffered the brutality of electric shock therapy, dove into drugs, tried several varieties of sex, met the devil, spent time in prison, helped revolutionize Brazilian rock with musician Raul Seixas, and finally rediscovered his faith in 1986 as he walked the sacred Road to Santiago de Compostela, a medieval pilgrim's route between France and Spain.

Coelho would later describe this life-changing spiritual experience in his first book, The Pilgrimage. The following year, The Alchemist established his worldwide reputation. The novel has already achieved the status of a universally admired modern classic. Now, for the first time, discover the life story of one of the most widely read and adored authors of our time.

Excerpt

CHAPTER 2

Childhood

PAULO COELHO DE SOUZA was born on a rainy night on 24 August 1947, the feast of St Bartholomew, in the hospital of São José in Humaitá, a middle-class area of Rio de Janeiro. The doctors had foreseen that there might be
problems with the birth, the first for twentythree-year-old Lygia Araripe Coelho de Souza, married to a thirty-three-year-old engineer, Pedro Queima Coelho de Souza. The baby would be not only their first child but a first grandchild for the four grandparents and a first nephew for uncles and aunts on both sides. Initial examination had shown that the child had swallowed a fatal mixture of meconium – that is, his own feces – and amniotic fluid. He was not moving in the womb and showed no inclination to be born, and finally had to be delivered by forceps. As Paulo was pulled into the world, at exactly 12.05 a.m., the doctor must have heard a slight crack, like a pencil snapping. This was the baby’s collarbone, which had failed to resist the pressure of the forceps. Since the baby, a boy, was dead, this was hardly a problem.

Lygia was a devout Catholic and, in a moment of despair, the first name that came to her lips was that of the patron saint of the maternity hospital: ‘Please bring back my son! Save him, St Joseph! My baby’s life is in your hands!’

The sobbing parents asked for someone to come and give the last rites to their dead child. Only a nun could be found, but just as she was about to administer the sacrament, there was a faint mewing sound. The child was, in fact, alive, but in a deep coma. He had faced his first challenge and survived it.

He spent his first three days in an incubator. During those decisive seventy-two hours, his father, Pedro, remained with him all the time. On the fourth day, when Paulo was taken out of the incubator, Pedro finally managed to get some sleep, and was replaced in his vigil by his mother-in-law, Maria Elisa or Lilisa, as she was known. Six decades later, Paulo would state without hesitation that his earliest memory was of seeing a woman come into the room and knowing that she was his grandmother. In spite of weighing only 3.33 kilos at birth and measuring 49 centimeters, the child seemed healthy. According to Lygia’s notes in her baby album, he had dark hair, brown eyes and fair skin, and looked like his father. He was named after an uncle who had died young from a heart attack. Apart from a bout of whooping cough, Paulo had a normal, healthy childhood. At eight months, he said his first word, at ten months, his first teeth appeared and at eleven months, he began to walk without ever having crawled. According to Lygia, he was ‘gentle, obedient, extremely lively and intelligent.' When he was two, his only sister, Sônia Maria, was born; he was always fond of her and, apparently, never jealous. At three, he learned to make the sign of the cross, a gesture that was later accompanied by requests to God for the good health of his parents, grandparents, cousins, uncles and aunts.

Until he was thirteen, he and his family lived on an eleven-house estate built by his father in Botafogo, a pleasant middle-class area of Rio. The best of the houses – the only one with a garden – was reserved for Pedro’s in-laws, Lilisa and Tuca, who owned the land. Another of the houses, a modest, two-storey affair, was given to Pedro in payment for his work and the remaining nine were let, sold or occupied by relatives. The Coelhos were so concerned about security that, although the estate was protected by high gates, all the windows and doors in the house were kept shut. Paulo and the other children could play freely as long as they did so within the confines of the estate; although it was only a few blocks from Botafogo beach, they knew nothing of life beyond its walls. Friendship with children from ‘outside’ was unthinkable. From a very young age, Paulo showed that he had an original way of thinking. When, at the age of three, Lygia caught him behaving badly, he said: ‘Do you know why I’m being naughty today, Mama? It’s because my guardian angel isn’t working. He’s been working very hard and his battery has run out.’

One of his greatest pleasures was helping his grandfather Tuca repair his enormous Packard car. His father felt that this was clear proof that his son would turn out to be an engineer like him. Pedro also had a car – a Vanguard – but it rarely left the garage. As far as Pedro Coelho was concerned, if the family could take the bus into the city, there was no reason to spend money on petrol.

One of Coelho’s earliest memories is of his father’s tight grip on domestic finances. Engineer Pedro Queima Coelho de Souza’s dream was to build not just a modest house for his family, like those on the estate, but a really large house with drawing rooms, a conservatory, verandahs and several bathrooms. The first step towards building this cathedral was a present from his father-in-law, Tuca: a 400-square-metre plot in Rua Padre Leonel Franca in the smart district of Gávea. From then on all non-essential expenditure for the family was cut in favour of the house in Gávea. ‘If we’re going to build a house for everyone,’ declared Dr Pedro, as he was known, ‘then everyone is going to have to cut back on spending.’ No new clothes, no birthday parties, no presents, no unnecessary trips in the car. ‘At the time,’ the author recalls, ‘we had nothing, but we didn’t lack for anything either.’ Christmas was saved for the children by the German electric trains and French dolls that their maternal grandparents gave them.

The dream house in Gávea caused the family a further problem. Instead of placing his savings in a bank, Pedro preferred to invest it in building materials and, since he had no shed in which to store these treasures, he kept everything in the house until he had enough capital to begin the construction work. As a result, both Coelho and his sister recall spending their childhood among lavatory bowls, taps, bags of cement and tiles.